Today is Mother's Day, and I miss my Momma

My immediate family--Momma, Kay, Kellye, Cathy, Daddy--I am head over heels in love with these folks.
Me and my girls, Sarah Beth (16) and Hannah (11). We are the "blondinka" part of the family.
Me and my boys, John-John (7) and Marc (39 for a couple of weeks). These two make life a little like traveling in a world of stand-up comedy...I am never, ever bored.

To the ends of the earth I will follow.
There's nothing that I will not do.
You alone are my reason for living.
Jesus, my passion is You.
"My Passion" by Travis Cottrell

Well, here in Russia it is not Mother's Day, so we decided to forgo the holiday and have everyone get sick. Sound fun? So Marc went on to church, and the kids and I stayed home. John and Hannah are especially not feeling well, which is a bit disastrous, since we have a team of 17 people coming in this week. I'm not positive, but this round of illnesses may have something to do with the fact that our temps are again dipping into the low twenties at night, and the Russian government turns off the heat on May 1st. Hmmm...there just might be a connection. And, because the light came pouring in early this morning, I have been up, quiet timed, made a coffee cake for the fam, worked on my AP syllabus, done a 2-mile workout, and showered. Now Sarah Beth and I are working on hairdos for senior banquet this weekend, which is kind of like prom, so the hair must be just right. We aren't really ignoring Mother's Day--Marc is making my favorite dinner tonight (Kung Pao vegetables and fried rice--in case you're wondering or interested) for our weekly visit to church in OKC (thank You, Lord, for the internet). So that's how things are going here.

Of course, I miss my Momma today. Who wouldn't? I've come to the conclusion that it's okay to miss her, that this is simply the product of having a Momma I really like and love, and this is one of God's blessings. I'm not homesick, I am not jealous that the rest of the world is going to take their mothers to lunch after church--I just plain ol' miss her. Here's the thing about my Momma: she's a hoot. She is not boring. She is not dull. She is funny. She makes me giggle. Sometimes, things come popping out of her mouth that catch me so by surprise that I double over in laughter. Who wouldn't miss that kind of Momma?

And she isn't just funny. She is my biggest fan. No questions asked. Name something my Momma does NOT think I can do. I dare you. Brain surgery? No doubt, if that was the direction my life had taken, I would have been the best brain surgeon ever--at least according to my Momma. And don't get her started on me as a teacher, because you will not walk away from that conversation for a while. When I wanted to try out for a part in the musical at my high school, I was so nervous. My Momma said, "Just go in there and remember that you're better than everybody else." (She swears up and down this did not happen, but it did. Trust me. I was there.) Never once in my life have I said I wanted to do something that my Momma did not think I would be the absolute best at whatever that was. Never. I'm serious.

Funny, supportive--great qualities, to be sure. But above all, my Momma is a person of tremendous, overwhelming, do-not-get-in-God's-way faith. Here is my all-time best Momma story. When I told my Momma and Daddy that I was turning my back on my career, pulling up stakes, and moving their grandchildren to Moscow, Russia, because God told me to, I was just a little nervous. In fact, I threw up on the way to their house (gross, I know, but true). You see, my Momma was in the middle of chemotherapy. I was going to dare go sit down and tell her bald self that in the midst of all that was going on in her life, I was going to take her grandchildren away. Would you have been looking forward to that conversation? I was not. You know what my folks did? Nodded their heads, cried tears of joy ( I am not even kidding you on that), and talked about the ways in which they were honored by our call. My Momma did not throw a pity-party, did not question, even once, our call...just said that she was so proud of us, so thrilled with how God was at work.

You hear stories in missionary circles of people whose parents raised them in church, took them to missions night once a year, enrolled them in GA's or Mission Friends, and then balked when it was their kid who God called to Africa instead of someone else's. It is one thing to say you support missions. It is quite another to stand at the airport while your child walks away to some far-off land because God told them to go. It takes a commitment--to missions, certainly, but also to God--that is unflinching. It is hard, hands-and-feet Christianity...it isn't for the faint of heart or the Easter and Christmas churchgoer. I have said it before, and I'll say it again--I am the person my parents raised me to be. Do they miss me? Yep. No doubt about it. Would they want me to come home? Not if it meant turning my back on God's hand on my life. Never. So today is a day that I miss my Momma (and Daddy, too), but more than I miss her, I am thankful for having been raised to listen to the voice of God--and then to follow faithfully.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are hugging your mother tightly, or remembering her with love and thankfulness, and that the government has not turned off your heat so that your kids are snotty and gross. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye